The Show Must Go On
by the-great-shoe
Summary: Someone's gotta do it. My attempt at continuing Popular the way it was supposed to have been, or so I've heard.


Unfocused shapes, bright and blurring, danced around me. The sounds and noises were unfamiliar and muffled, as if a pillow was smothering it. In fact, it felt like a pillow was smothering me. I was aware that I was breathing, or at least attempting to. The air seemed to be too thick for my mouth, which was uncomfortably dry. As I became more aware of my body, and the environment around me, the shapes became stationary. When my vision cleared, I saw that I didn't recognize the faces hanging above me. I couldn't even recognize where I was.

"Hello, Ms. McQueen." His voice was sweet, and soothing; they matched his eyes. I tried to move myself, to bring my body up, but a large hand saw to it that I remain in my position. I looked around; the man was accompanied by a bulky, sad looking woman.

"Try not to move." Isn't that what they tell hospital patients? I can't be in a hospital, though. That's not possible. I should be at the prom with friends, dancing and enjoying myself. That's where I was, anyways. What happened? I tried asking the man, but I wouldn't exactly qualify the noises that came out as human sounds.

"Brooke, you were in a terrible accident; you were hit by a car. Do you remember this?" I shook my head as best as I could. He must have come into the wrong room. I couldn't remember anything about a car; I could hardly even remember the prom.

"You've sustained some serious injuries to your head," his voice continued. Am I going to die? I sure wasn't feeling too good. The mention of my head caused it to create a deep throbbing pain, whether it was there this whole time, I'm not sure. What if I'm dying? That's what happens to people in car accidents, right? They die. The nurse around the sweet doctor seemed to be distancing herself from the situation, as if I could contaminate her with my headache.

"And you broke quite a few bones, but you're a lucky girl, Brooke. You're going to be fine." His emphasis on the word "fine" made me nervous. I glanced around, looking for my body, and was surprised that I didn't see any casts or bandages anywhere. Wasn't I run over by a car? Wasn't I broken? The throbbing continued, attacking my brain with a vengeance. I cringed, but tried to focus. I could tell that something was wrong, but my pain was masking the problem.

"Brooke, you have a few guests. They'd be ecstatic to know you're awake, would you like to see them?" I mumbled a shaky reply, pleased with myself that I was capable of words. The doctor and what I assumed was a nurse left, and in my moment of solitude I tried to make sense of what had happened. I was at the prom, I knew that much. I went around the pain and focused on that thought. Dancing, dresses, tuxes… everything seemed generic and wrong. I continued to press my mind, to conjure up the images of last night, but it proved difficult. I slumped in my bed, frustrated. My headache went into overdrive and pushed me to change my strategy. My dress was a good starting point. It was a deep red, I think. Or was that Sam's? Yes, that was Sam's. Mine was… pale, and delicate. Harrison went with us; we were a threesome. The obvious details of the night jogged my brain, and memories started pouring like molasses into my mind, soothing the headache.

Everyone had looked so pretty. The girls danced in their elegant dresses while the boys tried to figure out ways to get out of their tuxes and into beds. The lights hung romantically, and complimented the mood. It looked like the epitome of cheese, and I loved it. I loved feeling graceful and beautiful in my dress while dancing with a nervous Harrison… and Sam! She looked stunning. Everyone had; it was just the way the prom worked. Everyone looked beautiful, no matter who they were. Harrison and Sam, though, we went together. Oh, what an awful idea. We both loved him, and he loved us, but it was just torture. No one could win, but we made him choose anyway. The ultimate sibling rivalry; it would have been the pinnacle of our fighting had we not become sisters.

"Brooke," the noise nearly shocked me, and roused me from my thoughts. "I'm so glad you're awake."

"Hi, daddy," I tried to remain calm, to soothe his cracking voice, but maintaining composure had turned strenuous. He hugged me gently, and behind him I watched Jane and Sam walk through the pale, white door. I smiled at them, glad for the company. This place was so strange, and it felt wrong to be here. I tried not to think about Harrison, but his absence hurt. I watched Sam's face break into tears, and Jane comfort her. Sam hates me; she's broken hearted about the prom last night. I hadn't understood her sudden liking to him; I shrugged it off as a rebound from George. I didn't realize she loved him as much as I did until Harrison chose and she...

"Sammy," I pleaded, "I'm so sorry about last night." My voice sounded like one you'd see on a TV hospital drama, incredibly hoarse and raspy. I was shocked at the noise, but there wasn't much I could do about it. A tense atmosphere creeped into the room, causing me to frantically look around the room, hunting for some clue as to what was the matter. I looked from Sam to Jane to daddy, and a horrible feeling sunk into my chest. Did something happen to Harrison? Was he hit too?

"Oh, honey," Jane spoke, her voice calm and quiet, only her face revealing how she felt. "You've been in a coma."


End file.
